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If there is a guy you're interested in, but you don't know if he's (a) available or (b) in a relationship, just do the following: put me in a room with him, and if he is dating someone, he will come up to me and ask for my phone number. He may even possibly touch portions of my body where I wear my bathing suit. However, if he's actually single, he won't notice I am alive.

I don't know how I find these guys.

YET ANOTHER, I met last night. Everything was great, he introduced himself, we talked all night, we sent cute little text messages all day today, I stole cheesecake from work and brought it to him (at his BEACHFRONT, 38TH FLOOR, JAW-DROPPING CONDO) because he said he wanted some. So cute, right? Barf.

So I go over there, and he's giving me the tour of his home, and I'm thinking, What is wrong with this guy? Smart, successful, beautiful, obviously looooooooaded--there must be something, something something something WHAT IS IT? and we pass the photos: him standing with the man who might as well be every South American underwear model ever born, a slab of gorgeousness smiling back at me, mocking me. I knew who is was before I asked.

A few years (and a few relationships) ago, I pondered the intelligence of animals. Specifically, their understanding of activities involving humans-having-sex.

In that instance, I used a dog as an example, who passively laid by us whilst we engaged in the act.

The Jamaican came a-callin', and Gorgeous the cat did not lay passively. She sat, fully upright, and stared. Stared, just staring, not so much as a twitch of her tail. I think she was judging me, I could feel it. You trollop.

I need a really fun photo taken for a newspaper story in a few weeks. Any photographers in South Florida who want to do something interesting? It's going to run in Philadelphia, and then never be used again. But it would be good for your portfolio. I have no money to spend on this venture; I have a photo I can use already, if I can't find someone to take a better one, but I'd rather use something new and interesting.

This needs to happen in the next few days. No head/shoulders portrait shots, the crazier the better.

We went to a restaurant called Simply Delish, a place with chintz curtains and flowered wallpaper. Their specialty: quiche.

We had a lovely meal, sitting there sipping our tea and eating our quiche. It was excellent: flaky crust, filling is rich but still light, the vegetables were so fresh. I do recommend.

But it was in the middle of out lunch when I posed K a question.

"Do you think we've become a little bit too gay?"

He was smoothing his napkin in his lap, ever-so-perfectly. "What do you mean?"

"We are eating quiche in a restaurant decorated with autographed pictures of Judy Garland," I said, pointing above my head. "And the only customer in here who is a woman is at least 80 years old, and she doesn't look like she knows where she actually is, so I don't think she counts."

"Did you know our waiter was in a porn movie?" he asked, as he pointed to the man who just served us our food. "He played a teacher. His student was very, very bad."

"That's great."

"So what? We're fine." He took a bite of his quiche. "Mmm," he said. "This is delish."

And this brings me to my point.

My editors consistently give me gay-themed articles to write. This week's assignment? A benefit party for Misty Eyez, a drag queen who is raising money to compete in the Miss Florida At Large pageant. The "At Large" part means it's a pageant for the full-figured girls. Who are, of course, really men.

I go out and am surrounded by gay people, my phone is filled with the numbers for gay people. I go out with gay people and talk ad naseum about other gay things, gay events, gay people.

So I think it's time to step out of the comfort zone for a while. I'm trying things not typical for the gays.

Last night things got off to a great start: I told my friend A, who is in fact a heterosexual, that I was going out last night. And he said "But you're going to miss The Family Guy. It's the Star Wars episode." Not knowing what this meant, I took his recommendation on faith, and watched it with C (another gay) while eating tacos. HILARIOUS. Usually The Family Guy's lame slap-stick jokes are cheap and pointless, having nothing to do with the actual episode they're in. But within the structure of Star Wars, it was perfect. You must watch. My brother and I are scheduled to have a critical-analysis conversation about the show later today. It's important, this show. It must be discussed.

So few people watch it, the pageant can't even find a channel to broadcast it on TV anymore.

But it's not over; it lives on, as America's Next Top Model.

The show has moved from "modeling competition" to become the new Miss America.

Consider the following:

* Contestants must not only be pretty, but also display random talents. Note: acting workshops, dancing in Tyra's video, etc. I am waiting for the competition where they twirl flaming batons.

* The winners are awarded a contract as the "titleholder" of the competition, which includes money in exchange for working for the organization. This title lasts a certain amount of time; when the time expires and a new competition begins, that reigning titleholder makes one final appearance on the following season to say what a great time they've had, they've been so busy, etc. And you wonder what they've actually been doing, because you really haven't seen them doing anything except this competition itself.

* Contestants are given the opportunity to use the competition to speak out about issues they feel are important, i.e. single motherhood, drug abuse, the trials and tribulations of being a twin, etc.--even though this has absolutely nothing to do with winning the actual competition. To win, you just need to look good in a bikini and have a pleasant personality.

* Winners are much more likely to move on to careers as spokespersons instead of modeling, since they are too identifiable as being from the show. I.e., Yoanna: stint as host of some makeover show on E!, although is that still on?

* Some non-winning finalists, once on an infrequent occasion, will pull a Vanessa Williams and become very successful, all the while chuckling about that silly contest she was in years ago. I.e., Elyse Sewell. And just like Miss America contestants since Vannessa--other ANTM contestants besides Elyse...well?...

* The competition itself is laced with ridiculous singing/dancing productions that serve no real purpose other than to act as filler.

* The contestants cry a lot.

* The contestants want to use their reign as America's Next Top Model to demonstrate how they are strong, independent women who are capable of making the world a better place.

* In the Season 9 premiere, Tyra clearly states the Top Models are seen as "role models." Presumably Tyra is indicating they are role models for someone other than gay men, although nobody is certain who exactly that would be.

My phone's camera flash only lights the opposite side of the screen, so if you want to light yourself you can't see what you're taking. So I kept pointing the camera at random angles and popping shots in the hopes one would come out semi-clearly. I changed faces in each one; in this one I was trying to look smart and studious, but it came out as "pudgy frowning guy." But it was the first that got me and the hotel in the background, so I chalked it up as a success and kept it.

I was actually in a pretty good mood, out there eating dinner and doing stuff.

~~~

My friends do too many drugs.

I am not complaining. I knew this day would come. It's happened before, it will happen again. In my world, I can't escape it, it is everywhere. In the work I do the vast majority of people are somehow involved.

I know that any friend of yours who is a drug addict will let you down eventually. It is a fact of their nature. I live with this already in my head. I'm not sure where the demarcation line exists between "person who has done drugs before" versus "drug addict," but there comes a point when you know one when you see one. Although usually when you see it in a person, it's too late.

I don't care about the drugs, really. People mess around with stuff, people try different things, people have fun, I don't care. It's not that people who do drugs are somehow immoral. It's just that they become so...boring. They do the drugs, then they talk about the drugs, then they talk about doing more drugs. If they're not doing drugs, they talk about how great it is they're not doing drugs. Drugs drugs drugs. Talking about not doing drugs, it's still a conversation about drugs. I am so tired of the topic. It has never been interesting.

I wish parents would stop telling their kids "Don't do drugs, it's bad!" It makes it seem so much more interesting than it is, of course there's temptation to try it. Instead, they should switch to "Don't do drugs, it makes you boring." That's really the truth.

I don't think people realize just how selfish they are being, when they show up to a social situation, and they expect you to indulge them and carry on a conversation with them in their altered state of mind. They laugh and say "Sorry, I was fucked up," and expect that to be the answer. But Yes, you were. You really were. That's the point.

And there are the people who take a few hits off a joint, they feel scandalous and have fun; I drink some cocktails, I do crazy things. There have been times when I've embarrassed myself, having too much, these things happen. But then you're supposed to move on. These people I know, they don't move on.

And yes, alcohol counts. Pills count, a lot--probably more than most of the drugs that are illegal. The pills are so insidious, people think it's acceptable just because a doctor wrote a prescription, so they pop pop the pills and become Stepford Wives zombies. Personally, I think pills are the worst. I broke up with my last boyfried because of his pills. He was a mess.

I realize I live in Miami Beach. I know people think it's more prevalent here. But I don't think it's worse here, I've lived a lot of different places. It happens everywhere. People are selfish everywhere.

So I took this picture because I was out, walking, thinking about what to do. I like it here. It's not the city's fault. It's not the culture--I'm here too, surrounded by these people, and I'm not doing it. I'm having fun. I'm not upset about this, I have no reason to. I'm not the one wasting my life.

NOTE: If you're just joining us--these post contains entries from a diary I found. I have no idea who this person is. I post it because I think it's fascinating and surprisingly thought-provoking. But it's pretty heavy stuff, don't read if you're not ready.